


Stitch

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, pre-Revival, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:10:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: " I was an idiot who got hurt, panicked, and called the only person I could think of who’d come at a moment’s notice to help. "// In which I try and make sense of the break up, & in which Mulder & Scully work back towards each other.





	

“Can you explain to me again how this happened?” Scully asked, pushing back hair from her forehead with her hand. She brushed her fingertips against Mulder’s arm, carefully pulling it in her direction. She eyed the cut on his arm before looking back up at him. The lighting in the kitchen wasn’t perfect, but sitting at the dining table, her suture kit open before her, seemed much safer than the cramped space of the upstairs bathroom, which had been the other alternative he’d suggested. “You said you were fixing the fence?”

“I was,” he replied with a nod. He winced, drawing breath slowly through his teeth, as she began sterilizing the cut. “The storm we had last week blew a piece down. I went to fix it, and the blade slipped. If it’s too deep--”

“Luckily, it’s not,” she replied, tugging on his arm a bit more forcefully. “The wound doesn’t appear deep. I should be able to stitch you up here. You’ll just have to promise not to get the area dirty while it’s healing. And maybe refrain from using any sharp instruments for a while.”

Mulder smiled, laughing softly to himself as he watched her set about stitching him up. She managed to successfully get the first stitch in with little difficulty, but somewhere during the second, she’d pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and appeared to be deep in thought. “Everything okay, doc?”

“Just trying to save your life,” she quipped, flashing a smile in his direction, finding the fact the joke came so easily surprising. Despite never really breaking contact via the phone, his reaching out for help after getting hurt was the first time she’d been in the house at the same time as him since she’d left. She’d stopped by a few times to pick up things she needed, but only when she knew he wouldn’t be home. It was cowardly perhaps, but it seemed to be the best way to cope with their situation. The phone calls had been growing increasingly frequent however, and longer in length, and while she knew there was still a lot of work to be done, there was a part of her that felt very glad to see him breaking out of his shell again.

Mulder shifted in his chair, hating the fact the lingering silence bothered him. There were times in their career where they sat in the office or in a hotel room on the road for hours on end filling out paperwork or researching, and the silence was completely fine, broken only by offers of food or a chance to escape. “Is it that bad?”

Scully shook her head, pausing to look up at him. “I need to do two, possibly three more. You’re going to be fine.”

“I hate that word,” Mulder muttered, drumming the fingers of his free hand against his jeans. He tilted his head back, staring at the overhead light and watching as it flickered. “Fine is such an arbitrary term. Fine implies that while one may live, there’s a statistically high chance that their life could be better.”

“Where is this philosophical speech of yours coming from, Mulder?” Scully asked, almost afraid of the answer. “Obviously, your life could have been better had you not hurt your arm, but since you have, you’re doing okay under the circumstances.”

“My life would’ve been better had--” he stopped himself, choosing instead to focus on the flecks of dried paint on his pant leg. Denim wasn’t something he wore often, and that fact hadn’t changed, but he still kept a few pairs of jeans for whenever he was working around the house. He could describe in detail the afternoon the stain had gotten there, about the way Scully wielded her paint brush as they painted the porch, and the way they’d gotten more on themselves than on the wood it was intended for. Suddenly, the pressure he’d felt on his arm from her hands was released, leaving him feeling cold as he jolted back to the present. “Are you done?”

Scully brushed hair back from her face as she began putting things back in her kit, knowing full well they needed to be sterilized, but also getting the impression that the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to go. “You’ll want to monitor your arm for signs of infection. I’ll have to come back next weekend to see if the stitches can be removed. You were lucky.”

He laughed, unable to stop the bitter sound from spilling free. A cough followed soon after, but when he glanced up at her, he knew the damage had been done. “Sorry, it’s just that I don’t think lucky is a word many people would use to describe someone like me. Myself included.”

Scully shouldered her bag and stood, observing him for a moment. His face seemed fuller than when she’d seen him last, a product possibly of the groceries she’d subtly leave on her trips to the house. His stubble was several days old, but the fact it hadn’t approached beard level seemed evidence that he started shaving regularly again. There were shadows under his eyes however, although knowing the things they’d both faced, Scully wasn’t sure if those would ever fully go away. She flexed her hand against the dining chair, feeling the ridges of the wood under the pad of her thumb and breathed in deep, feeling the need to leave as strong as the pull to stay in the place they had built so carefully together. “You’re taking care of yourself?”

Mulder shook his head, sighing before pushing his chair back and standing, feeling the distance between them stretch like an elastic band ready to snap. He hated that they were like this, working their way back toward one another only to fall back apart again, only to find themselves back where they’d started, only more worn and weary for it. “You don’t have to do this, Scully. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I was an idiot who got hurt, panicked, and called the only person I could think of who’d come at a moment’s notice to help. My therapist would have a field day if I told him it was my ex-wife, but you’ve always been my doctor. I just hoped everything that’d happened hadn’t changed that, too.”

The tears Scully felt pricking her eyes knew better than to fall. She squared her shoulders, tightening her jaw and shaking her head as she carefully chose what words to say. He got like this, poking at the figurative bruise in their relationship and choosing to start a fight rather than focusing on what was important. She didn’t want to do that. “I’m glad that you’re seeing someone. I didn’t know that.”

He took a step back, drawing breath in deep through his nose. It had surprised him how easily he’d left that fact slip. “I started a few months ago. It was hard at first, opening up about things that are frankly uncomfortable. But it helps. I’m trying to be...better, I guess might be the appropriate word.”

Scully smiled. Having been his only confidant for years had been a duty she’d taken on willingly, but she knew how hard it was for him to discuss things with only her as company. She knew how hard he’d taken to the depression and isolation he’d sunk into. She’d tried to break him free from his shell, dragging him to hospital parties and even out shopping, but time and time again he’d slipped further into himself, until one day she’d accepted the fact she wasn’t enough to save him. While she tried her damndest to be the captain of a sinking boat, deciding to get out for her own good seemed the best option for both of them. “I’m happy for you, Mulder. I really am.”

He shrugged, clapping his arms against his sides, regretting it a second later when pain jolted through his injured side. The anger he’d felt a few moments before had dissipated, and he knew it was ill-placed to begin with. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked, shuffling a few feet closer to him. She knew she should leave as planned, she knew they weren’t at a point yet where anything good could come from staying, but she found herself wanting to delay the inevitable. Her fingers reached out, bridging the distance between them and grasping his hand. She gave it a squeeze, staring down at their intertwined fingers until she felt his free hand under her chin, lifting it and urging her to look at him.

“Stay,” he said, his voice little more than a harsh whisper. When she quickly darted her eyes away again, he brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her thumb and letting his lips linger for a second before pulling away. “Would it really be that bad? We can still be friends, right? It’d be the gentlemanly thing to do to offer you a place to stay since it’s late. I can’t pay you, but I can make a mean pasta carbonara, which I seem to recall you loving. Just stay, Scully.”

When she’d gotten his call, asking her to come and fix him up, she’d known such an invitation was a possibility, and she’d carefully planned her refusal. She hadn’t counted on having to fight her own desire to stay. “I think we both know that’s a bad idea. I can’t.”

Mulder bowed his head, nodding to himself, moving away only to feel her pulling him closer. He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in deep and holding on as best as he could. “Scully, I can’t help but notice you’re hugging me instead of walking out the door. Far be it from me to question the opportunity, but what’s happening right now?”

When Scully pulled away, she’d finally allowed a few tears to escape, and when Mulder pressed a kiss to her cheek, she fought a sob. She reached between them, fishing the necklace she always wore from under her shirt, waiting for the flash of recognition on his face before speaking. “I put my ring on my necklace because it was easier at the hospital, but I’ve never stopped wearing it. I’m not signing the damn papers, Mulder.”

Mulder opened his mouth and closed it, furrowing his brow as he processed the new piece of information. A wave of relief washed over him and he pressed his forehead to hers. He’d had the papers drawn up in a fit of anger--at her, at himself, at the situation they faced--about a month after she’d left, but in the days and weeks that followed, she’d never once brought them up. He thought it might’ve been what she wanted, to sever any and all contact, legal or otherwise. The phone calls had grown more frequent, and he knew she’d been by the house multiple times, but after almost a year apart, they hadn’t reached a point he was happy with yet. To know that she hadn’t signed papers he’d only served in an act of stupidity made him happier than he cared to admit. “Call me when you get to your apartment,” he said, unable to push the word “home” past his lips, because he knew it wouldn’t be true.

Scully nodded, burrowing closer before giving him a kiss and stepping out of his embrace, clapping a hand against his shoulder in a sense of finality. “I have a surgery scheduled for seven in the morning. I’ll be at the hospital all day, but have them page me if it doesn’t get any better.”

He had always been amazed at the seemingly effortless way Scully could clip into different facets of herself--partner, agent, wife, friend and, for so brief a time, mother. To see the doctor in her come out filled him with a sense of pride he’d never felt for anyone else. “Thanks. Goodnight, doc.”

She headed for the door but paused, turning towards him as the thought occurred. “When I come back to check your stitches next weekend, you should make the pasta carbonara. You were right. I do love it,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She locked eyes with him and smiled, shrugging as if what she said next was inevitable. “And you.”

He nodded, appreciating the olive branch he’d been given. “Drive safe,” he said, already making a mental list in his head of the ingredients he’d have to make sure he had for the next time he’d see her. It wasn’t much, he knew that, but it was a start.


End file.
